


when i step out i'm gonna do you in

by harpers_mirror (SapphireBryony)



Series: sharp-dressed man [1]
Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Dancing, F/F, F/M, M/M, Total Fluff, everyone lives au, fancy party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-12 01:52:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12948744
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphireBryony/pseuds/harpers_mirror
Summary: In which Doug Eiffel attends a fancy party, realizes that all his friends and acquaintances are terribly attractive, has a minor existential crisis, and learns to live with it.





	when i step out i'm gonna do you in

The universe was conspiring to kill Doug Eiffel and honestly? He was pretty okay with that. His current predicament might kill him, he rationalized, but at least he’d die happy.

The whole gang of them - Doug, Minkowski and her husband, Lovelace, Jacobi and Kepler, Maxwell, even Hera - had been conscripted into a fancy charity event thrown by the firm that had won them their landmark suit against Goddard, a year after their triumphant return from space. None of them really  _ wanted _ to go - well, maybe Kepler, he liked schmoozing and boozing with fancy people - but none of them really felt like they could say “no” to the people who’d basically saved their collective bacon. And so they went.

But the party itself wasn’t what was slowly killing Eiffel. No, the party was a perfectly normal, boring affair, full of booze he wasn’t allowed to drink and strangers he had no interest in talking to. 

What was killing him was his  _ stupidly attractive friends. _ More specifically, it was how extra-stupidly-attractive they all looked in evening wear.

His slow and torturous death had begun earlier that evening. He’d gotten to the venue earlier than expected - what should have been a thirty minute drive from his apartment passed in twelve, all the usual traffic miraculously dissipated. The universe was against him on a number of fronts tonight, and the old SI-5 crew had been the first to arrive. They all pulled up together with Kepler at the wheel and honestly, Doug wasn’t even going to ask. Those three had still had such a weird thing going on, with Kepler at the helm, and it was definitely none of his business. 

But here they were, and they’d seen him so there was no escape. They piled out of the car and Doug resigned himself to the inevitable Keplering he was about to endure.

“Doug!” boomed Kepler, unfolding himself from the car. “How the heck are you?”

He was wearing a tux and even Eiffel had to admit he pulled it off. And Maxwell, who he’d never really imagined wearing a dress - or indeed, anything other than cargo pants and MIT sweatshirts - looked extremely pretty in her sparkly green dress. The little lines that patterned it reminded him faintly of circuits, and he wondered if that was why she’d picked it.

Doug gave a little wave, reflecting that it was  _ weird _ to be casually socializing with people he’d once plotted to kill. He started to say something in response to Kepler’s overture, but - oh. 

Fuck. 

Jacobi followed behind them, clearly annoyed at having to attend tonight. And that irritation manifested itself in his clothes, in the jacket slung over his shoulder, in the rolled-up shirt sleeves, in the bowtie hanging loose around his neck. On another man, the effect would have been “foppish hobo,” Doug knew, but on Jacobi...

_ Fuck. _

Jacobi was hot. 

How had Doug never realized this before? How? It generally took more than threats of death by fiery explosion to quell his libido and he typically considered snarky banter a proper aphrodisiac. 

Well. This was gonna be awkward.

“Hello, Colonel. Doctor. You both look very nice.”

He could be so diplomatic when he needed to be! He was rather proud of himself.

“And Jacobi. You look like you mugged James Bond, took his clothes, and then made out with him for a bit.”

Oh. Yeah. Diplomatic. Uh huh.

Jacobi blinked. “Well that was an oddly specific description. Something you’d like to share with the class, Eiffel?”

“Nope, nuh-uh, you look great, bye.”

Doug booked it inside. He made for the bar, but, no. Better not throw jet fuel on the already-smoldering garbage fire that was his self-control. He ordered a soda from the bartender and downed half of it as though it was a shot, choking a little as the carbonation attacked his sinuses.

As he was rubbing his nose, trying to breathe, and get himself under some semblance of control, a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Doug?” 

He turned to find Dominik Koudelka standing behind him. Also looking ludicrously hot in a tux.

“Hi,” he squeaked out, choking again. “How are you? I’m great, just remembering I can’t breathe soda.”

Dominik smiled at him, a little bemused. “I’m good, Doug. Just got back from Paris. Had enough time to swing by the house, get ready, grab Renee, and make it here. Speaking of my wife, I seem to have lost her somewhere.”

He turned to look around the ballroom. Eiffel glanced around too, absently taking a sip of his drink - and then choked again when he spotted Minkowski.

The universe was punishing him for something. It had to be. Minkowski was heading toward them, a smile on her face. She was wearing makeup, which Doug had never seen her do. Or, well, he knew half the time women didn’t look like they were wearing makeup, they totally were, but it just looked like their face. So she’d probably done that before plenty. 

But tonight she was wearing  _ lipstick. _ And okay, so, Doug had definitely had thoughts about his former commander before this, the kind of thoughts where he noticed she was  _ really super pretty, _ even when she was angry at him.  _ Especially _ when she was angry at him. And sure, maybe he’d known that like, some small part of his brain was  _ kind _ of a little bit in love with her, but it wasn’t like he was ever going to act on it.

But now she was walking up to them wearing a lipstick smile and a long black dress and this was it, this was the moment Doug Eiffel died.

Minkowski got to them and kissed her husband, right on the lips, right in front of Eiffel and everybody and he couldn’t help but notice that she was happier in that moment than he’d ever seen her, and that was more beautiful than any dress she could possibly wear.

Although now that she was standing next to him, he could see that her dress, cut high in the front, had a low, swoopy neckline in the back and  _ oh god why. _

She broke apart from Koudelka and turned to him, smiling and reaching out to touch his arm.

“Eiffel, there you are! I see Nik found you. Everything going okay here?”

He laughed, a slightly mad sound. “Oh yeah, everything is great, boss! Kepler looks like a mafia don,  _ Jacobi _ looks like a freaking international man of mystery, and you guys look like you belong on the cover of some magazine for really, really good-looking people. And Maxwell’s dress might actually be a robot, come to think of it. Excuse me.”

They stared at him as he strode quickly away. 

He fled across the ballroom, tried to vanish into the growing crowd, and hid in the coatroom. 

_ Jesus Christ, _ what was wrong with him? Minkowski was gonna think he was completely nuts. Or drunk. He wasn’t sure which was worse, but he contemplated it as he banged his head lightly against the wall.

“Eiffel! Are you - ” Lovelace had entered the room behind him while he was busily engaged in self-flagellation. She saw the look on his face and cut herself off. “Oh no. What did you do?”

Several witty replies sprang to mind but they were all subsumed by the screaming klaxon going off in his brain.

Isabel Lovelace was standing just a few feet away from him wearing a red dress, high heels, and an alarmed expression. And holy shit, she was a beautiful sight to behold. Doug was speechless.

Realization dawned across Lovelace’s face and she grinned wickedly. “Ah,” she said. “You just saw Minkowski and her husband, didn’t you?”

Doug nodded. “And Jacobi,” he muttered, his voice muffled as he dropped his head into his hands.

Lovelace chuckled. “Didn’t see that crowd yet. Let me guess, he’s rumpled, he looks like he gives exactly zero fucks, and his tie is strategically untied?”

Eiffel looked up at her. “Gold star, captain. That is  _ exactly _ what he has going on tonight.”

“Predictable,” she snorted. “So you’re, what, in here hiding because everyone you know here tonight looks incredibly hot and your soul is slowly dying?”

“That about sums it up, yeah. And, uh, don’t count yourself out of that company either, Lovelace. Because, um, wow.”

“Well,” she replied, walking over to him. “Thank you, Eiffel. ‘Um, wow’ was exactly what I was going for.” She stopped in front of him, hands on her hips, sizing him up with a mixture of laughter and sympathy in her face and voice. “So, here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to go back out there, because Hera just got here and is very excited to try out the concept of ‘dancing.’ We’re going to have fun, and ogle Minkowski together, and take bets on whether Kepler or Jacobi is going to crack first and ask the other one to dance. Sound good?” She extended a hand to Eiffel.

He grinned and took it. “Sounds perfect, cap’n. But my money’s totally on Jacobi. Kepler’s too proud to do something as vulnerable as ask someone to dance. You know he was totally the kid sitting alone in the bleachers at all the middle school dances.”

Lovelace laughed and they headed back out into the ballroom. “And you were what, the kid in the middle of the floor dancing enthusiastically by yourself?”

“Hey now, I danced with at least one person at a school dance! And they may have even lasted most of the song before I stepped on their foot and they ran off,” he answered, a touch defensively.

“And meanwhile, I was  _ under _ the bleachers, making out with the head cheerleader,” replied Lovelace, completely deadpan. “So I think I win.”

“Oh you definitely do.”

“What did she definitely win?” asked a baffled Minkowski, overhearing.

“Coolest fourteen-year-old at the dance,” said he answered, as if that made all the sense in the world.

“Ohhhkay?” said Minkowski, more baffled than before. “You good, Eiffel? You were acting kind of...  _ strange _ before.”

Lovelace patted his hand where it still rested on her arm. “He’s good, Minkowski. I talked him down. Just a mild case of apoplexy due to realizing that all his friends are incredibly hot.”

It was a toss-up as to whose face was redder, Eiffel’s or Minkowski’s. 

Dominik started laughing. “Fair, man,” he answered. “I have zero complaints about the people my wife brought home in tow.” He winked, then extended a gallant arm to said wife. “Care for a dance, darling?” he asked.

Still beet red, she accepted.

Lovelace and Eiffel watched them go, smiling. Turning to his companion, Eiffel asked her, “You said Hera was here somewhere?”

Smile widening, Lovelace pointed out into the sea of dancing couples. “Yeah, but you’re too late to claim the first dance on her card. Look.”

Doug looked and there, among the dancers was a most extraordinary pair. A tall, pale blue humanoid figure in a gauzy silver dress seemed to float above the floor, movements light and gentle. It was Hera, in her beautiful new physical form - or at least, the version she was trying out this week. She’d told him she didn’t want to settle on any one thing just yet. And in her arms was Maxwell. 

His smile widened. “Awww...” was all he had to say for the moment. 

Lovelace chuckled quietly. “Yeah. It’s kind of cute. I’m sure Maxwell is over the moon, this has to be some kind of dream come true for her.”

“Look at my girl go,” he sighed, watching Hera. “She’s pretty incredible.”

“I bet she’ll save a dance for you,” said Lovelace, nudging him gently. “Not sure if Kepler will get so lucky though.” She nodded to the far side of the room, where the other two thirds of SI-5 sat, unspeaking, on opposite sides of a table. 

“Heh,” said Doug, eyeing them. “Hey, Lovelace? Stop me if you think this is a bad idea.”

“What - hey!” she said as he set off across the ballroom. Sizing up the situation, she considering invoking the “bad idea” power she’d been vested with but decided against it. This had the potential to be funny.

Doug strode with surprisingly confidence over to Kepler and Jacobi’s table. Stopping in front of Jacobi, he extended a hand. 

“May I have this dance?” he asked before he could reconsider.

Jacobi stared at him. Slowly, his eyes slid from Eiffel’s outstretched hand to Kepler, sitting silently on the other side of the table, and then back again.

“You know what?” he asked, standing up. “You may, Eiffel.” He downed the whiskey remaining in his glass, took Eiffel’s hand, and followed him to the dance floor.

It was awkward. It was more than a little uncomfortable. And there was a definite moment of confusion about whose hands were going where. But once everything was where it should be, Eiffel felt himself relax slightly.

“I gotta say, Jacobi, I didn’t really plan this out further than, ‘Hey that might be funny and make Kepler real annoyed.’ Just so you know.”

Jacobi snorted. “What is there to plan, Eiffel? We dance, we chat awkwardly, it ends, I go back to my table and drink my weight in scotch with my former boss in total silence. Easy peasy.”

“You could just ask him,” Eiffel pointed out.

“Oh yeah, right. That’ll go well. I ask him to dance, he acts all surprised and pretends the thought had never even occurred to him, blusters a bit about something that has approximately zero relevance to the circumstances, and by then the song is over and the cool kids are making fun of me.” He glanced over at Lovelace, who was staring at them.

“Don’t worry about her,” Eiffel said, grinning. “She just wants to win our bet. Which, come to think of it, we never set any terms for. That’s concerning.”

Jacobi just shook his head, and Doug felt the hands at his back grip a little tighter for a just a second.

“Hey,” he continued. “Jacobi.”

The other man looked up at him. “Jesus, Eiffel, can’t we just suffer through the rest of this experience in peace?”

Doug ignored him. “Want me to help you make Kepler so jealous he can’t ignore you?”

“On the other hand,” said Jacobi, voice slightly strained, “you in fact have many good ideas, and I would like to subscribe to your newsletter.”

Doug grinned and, before he could talk himself out of it, seized Jacobi’s face in his hands and pulled him in for a kiss.

And that was when he remembered, oh yeah,  _ he was suddenly extremely attracted to Daniel Jacobi, _ i.e. the man whose tongue was currently in his mouth. He was a moron. 

It was for a good cause, he rationalized. And that “good cause” was realized more swiftly than he’d expected, as a large hand landed on his shoulder while he was busy getting intimately acquainted with Jacobi’s lower lip.

The hand pulled him angrily back and he stumbled a bit. Kepler was looming over him, glowering.

“Sir,” said Eiffel, smothering a grin.

_ "Mister _ Jacobi,” growled the colonel. “May I please speak with you outside?”

“Sir yes sir,” replied Jacobi. Kepler stalked off.

“What did I tell you?” Eiffel asked.

“Yeah, yeah. When you’re right, you’re right,” said Jacobi. He hurried after his superior officer. Eiffel tossed them a salute as they went.

Hands in his pockets, Doug sauntered back off the dance floor, whistling. He slid into the empty seat beside Isabel.

“So,” she said, arching an eyebrow at him. “That went...well? Poorly? I’m not really sure what you motive was and so have no way to judge your outcome.”

Doug grinned. “Just applied some good old-fashioned Doug Eiffel charm and cleverness to the situation! Now Kepler’s probably got Jacobi bent over a fountain or something, and it’s all thanks to me.”

Lovelace grimaced. “Well that’s an image I could have done without. Jesus, Doug.”

“Sorry,” he said, making a face of his own. “I regretted those words pretty much as soon as they were out of my mouth.”

She laughed. Hera appeared at his elbow.

“Eiffel! Why are you causing trouble?” she asked. 

He grinned up at her. “It’s what I do best, darlin’. Fancy a dance?”

She smiled back, all traces of reproach gone. “Of course! Alana already taught me how to do a lot of it correctly.”

“I’ll bet she did. Well, I think I can still show you a thing or two.”

“You’re certainly welcome to try,” said Hera primly.

Doug got his dance with Hera, and then the next with Lovelace, who was dodging the advances of a smarmy-looking fellow who didn’t seem to understand the meaning of “fuck off.” 

“He looks like a weasel dipped in hair gel,” muttered Doug under his breath. Lovelace laughed, finished their dance, and then discreetly threatened to murder the fellow. This time, he took her seriously.

He took a break from dancing to dive into the hors d’oeuvres, watched Minkowski and her husband execute a perfectly graceful waltz, watched Hera and Maxwell grin goofily at each other, watched Lovelace dance with a gorgeous blonde in a razor-sharp black suit. 

The night passed. Kepler and Jacobi snuck back in from outside, looking disheveled (Jacobi) and smug (Kepler). Lovelace’s new friend Rachel (“Yes, Eiffel, I’m sure she’s not evil, I checked.”) joined their table and chatted with Doug while Lovelace stole a dance with Minkowski. Eiffel himself danced with Minkowski twice, Koudelka twice, and even Jacobi again, this time with less kissing.

At night’s end, Eiffel, too tired to drive himself home, slumped in the back seat of Koudelka’s car. Minkowski was asleep on his shoulder.

“Poor thing,” said Dominik from the front seat. “She’s usually in bed by 10:00. All the better to get up at 5:00 am to run.”

“Weirdo,” said Doug, smiling fondly down at her.

“Oh yeah,” nodded Dominik. “Positively inhuman. We’ll sleep in though. Hey, how do you feel about pancakes for breakfast tomorrow morning?”

“Like I want to kiss you,” yawned Doug. “You sure know the way to a guy’s heart.” He sat up slightly, trying not to dislodge the sleeping woman on his shoulder. “Um, maybe strike that first part from the record? I didn’t...um...”

Dominik chuckled quietly. “Doug, love, that’s a conversation for another day. For now, let’s deal with getting everyone home and to bed. That’s enough for now, yes?”

“Yes,” agreed Doug. He settled happily back into his seat, wrapping an arm around Minkowski to pull her closer. Resting his head atop hers, he closed his eyes.

The universe may have been out to get him, he rationalized sleepily, but tonight it hadn’t succeeded. He was warm and content and the best kind of tired. His friends were happy and safe. Heck, even people he disliked were reasonably happy tonight. Jacobi had Kepler. Hera had Maxwell. Lovelace had vanished with Rachel earlier, looking like the cat that had got the canary. Minkowski and Koudelka had each other. Doug had all of them.

And in the morning, there would be pancakes.

Life was good.


End file.
